Infected
by killer joke
Summary: A semi-apocalyptic meltdown where the Infected have raged to take over the Americas. Benjamin Balry is the poor teenage boy who has to live through it all after having to go out on his own as so many at the time and then meets a curious trio.T zombiegore


I sighed and looked out of the window of the worn black van. It was the year 2020. Exactly five and a half years since the Outbreak. I am now only fifteen, since two months ago, but I still remember what it was like before the Outbreak if only a little bit. The Outbreak was terrible. The Infected were spawned and turned quickly, gathering in hordes by some instinct and then brutally attacking people. The Disease was created by some scientists. An American scientist who proposed the idea of a stronger race of people. Better soldiers. The scientist got together a group and used government funding to make this genetic code change. It worked. All to well. Their first test subject went crazy. The new code changed your genetic structure. It made you stronger, faster, and bloodthirsty. It clouded over your memories and all but deleted emotions. In essentiality it made you a psychopath. A Mr. Hyde, if you will. The unknown side-effect was that it rotted your major organs. Blood apparently quelled the pain of rotting from the inside out. They turned into monstrous cannibals. The first experimental soldier attacked the scientists, and somehow escaped. Then all hell broke loose. The lab was in Washington D.C. so it could be easily monitored by the Pentagon. The White House was not informed until half of D.C's population were bloodthirsty monsters. The government collapsed and it spread. At first it was just a controlled situation. A terrible marvel on the news. When the government collapsed we assumed we would deal with it civilly. That didn't happen. It spread so fast. Soon the whole eastern coast was rotting from the disease, infected with leprosy and cold blood. Then it wasn't just on the news. It was outside the window. It was on your street, in your house. My family was more prepared than others, but there were three children including me. Everyone panicked. Then the whole north American continent was consumed. We were cutoff from the rest of the world. It took only a year for all of the Americas, north central and south to be swarmed in Infected. Those who weren't might as well of been. They panicked and murdered and ran and stole to survive, and still most were taken down by the Infected. There were times when my young mind couldn't tell the difference between an Infected and a human gone mad with the rage, fear, and panic. Except for their eyes. A human's eyes were brimming with emotion even if it was only madness. But the Infected. The soulless bloody red revealed no emotions. Only flickers of hunger and rage. A disgusting mixture of madness, leprosy, and rabies. Crazed animals.

It is five years later and many of the Infected have died off. But there are still many. They adapted quickly. Hunting at night and in packs and using there abilities as a rabid cat uses its claws. The Disease evolved and some Infected became Shifters, changing there appearance to suit their hunting needs even into animal-like forms. They could change everything but their eyes and only a few Infected could 'shift' anyways. Some gained higher brain functions though they still ran on instinct like rabid animals hitting a point where those brain functions and 'shifting' disappeared anyways. There are only three possibilities that happen when you come in contact with an Infected. You die. You become an Infected. Or the least likely, you become a Tarif. A Tarif is a person whose body accepts and changes with the Disease. They can 'shift' and become stronger and faster, but they keep their memories and emotions and brain functions. They do not rot, but they do feel the same hunger and pain and rage. Most go crazy from the conflict, turning into essential Infected. There is only a one in one million chance that that will happen though. The people who are unlucky enough to become Tarifs are shunned by the normal humans but still attacked by the Infected since they still smell of fresh human blood Tarifs are considered outsiders who hide, cower and die anyways.

Other nations finally tried to help after the first year or so but only succeeded in making the Infected population bigger. They gave up and left the Americas to their misery. What was once the most magnificent melting pot was left rotting and spread its infection. One of the world powers lay now in ruins dragging with it the calm Canadian's and rich South American cultures. The cautious and stubborn groups of people left rounded up into small groups in battered towns. A-Towns, Aftermath-towns. Groups of desperate people hiding out and sleeping in shifts. There were other families who adapted to become nomads, traveling in vans and trucks laden with food and weapons as they traveled from devastated town to town. There was a rumor that somewhere in the United States there was a Cure for the Disease. Many humans sought it but no one found it. The A-Towns usually kept everything "important" in a centralized location. Usually in complicated glass or force field boxes. The people grouped together in ratty apartment complexes. There were no leaders, just people who try to ordain order and fail. Those people use common sense to the fullest but are still terrified. You can tell. You can see it in their eyes. Almost smell it in the air at the most innocent of noises. You can feel the fear as a palpable force in the air at night.

My father was a soldier. He died when I was ten, fighting during the initial Outbreak. My younger sister Clarissa died a year after the Outbreak, when our house was raided. My mother and older sister Serena are now the only family members I have. My mom's emotions were hardened by the strain of losing her husband and youngest child as well as having to fight for her life and her two children's for five years. My sister had adopted a colder demeanor. I just stayed quiet. We are alive and living but there is no peace.

I am a mere fifteen year old. A teenager. But being so young during the Outbreak made me see clearer. I see what is wrong with the people more than most adults who are struck with distress and deep set panic. I am Benjamin Balry. I have auburn hair and green eyes. I am a thin fifteen year old boy from Washington, the state. This is my life during the Infection.


End file.
